


Radiant

by starsandgraces



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:04:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgraces/pseuds/starsandgraces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sulu's twenty-third birthday coincides with both shore leave and something a little rarer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Radiant

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moonlitelupines](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=moonlitelupines).



> For [moonlitelupines](http://moonlitelupines.livejournal.com/), who just wanted some Chekov/Sulu for the holidays.

"Don't get lost again, kids," Kirk says, slapping Chekov so hard on the back that he stumbles into Sulu and almost drops his rucksack. "I need you back at the rendezvous point by 1500, ship time. Enjoy your shore leave."

"Aye, sir," they both reply. Chekov shoulders the rucksack again and grabs Sulu by the elbow, dragging him away.

"Kids," he says in disgust, as soon as they're out of earshot. " _Kids_ , Hikaru."

"You know he doesn't mean it in a bad way. He's just being himself. Where are we going, anyway?"

"All in good time," he says, brightening considerably. "Presents are better if they are a surprise, you know this."

"I just said that to you so you'd stop bothering me about yours!"

"Your mistake, Sulu."

The planet's twin suns are setting; one has already dropped beneath the horizon and the second is close behind. They're heading towards the volcanic plain, Sulu realises. It stretches over about a quarter of the continent, according to their scans, and is easily the most boring part of the planet as far as botany is concerned. It's nothing but rock for as far as the eye can see, uniform and uninteresting. Sometimes there's a larger rock. Chekov stops by one of them and slings his pack onto it, climbing up onto the surface.

"Come on," he says from above Sulu's head. "We're here."

"Really?" Sulu asks, trying not to sound disappointed. He digs the toe of his boot into a crack in the side of the rock and follows Chekov up. The stone beneath his palms is smooth and still warm from the suns.

Chekov spreads a blanket from his rucksack over the rock, then pulls his gold overshirt off and bundles it up, using it as a pillow when he lies down. "Come, Hikaru," he says, patting the blanket next to him.

Sulu copies Chekov, stripping off his overshirt and lying down close to him. "Look at you," he says, nuzzling Chekov's neck.

Chekov laughs and pushes him off, but he holds onto Sulu's hand loosely. "It's going to start soon."

"What, the birthday sex? That's what I was hoping."

"No, hush. Look to the north-east, at the sky."

He turns onto his back, looking up. Night's fallen already, leaving them a clear view of the stars. The constellations are unfamiliar, of course—warped and distorted or entirely absent—but Sulu feels just the way he did when he was a small child, staring into space from outside San Francisco.

"What am I looking f—fuck me!" he exclaims. A meteor flashes across his peripheral vision in the most shocking shade of red he's ever seen. "Did you see...?"

"Keep looking," Chekov says, sounding gleeful.

The next meteor is bright blue, and it seems to open the floodgates. It's more of a meteor storm than a shower; Sulu quickly loses count of how many he's seen and they haven't been watching for very long at all.

"They come from the debris thrown out after a collision between two comets," Chekov says quietly. "They only peak once every eight and a half Julian years, approximately."

"Huh," Sulu murmurs. "Pavel? This is a pretty amazing birthday present."

Chekov squeezes his hand gently and moves a little closer, fingering the hem of Sulu's undershirt as he kisses him. They fold their clothes neatly and leave them on the side of the rock, out of the way.

It's all bare limbs and friction and whispered names; Chekov's fingers—pressed to the nape of his neck—are grounding Sulu. The near-constant meteors illuminate Chekov's upturned face as they thrust against each other and Sulu struggles to keep his eyes open against the rush of pleasure, watching Chekov instead of the sky.

A rock on an alien planet isn't the most comfortable place they've ever had sex, but it might just be the most memorable.

They spend the rest of their time watching the meteors darting across the sky and picking through the food Chekov packed. Chekov's PADD bleeps while they're eating. "We need to leave or we will be late," he says, picking up his uniform and dressing efficiently.

"Maybe we can stay," Sulu says. "How much does the _Enterprise_ need a pilot and a navigator, anyway?"

He nods slowly and passes Sulu his clothes. "Computers can do wonderful things, I hear. But I think we might perhaps need to supervise them. Also, this planet vents its atmosphere annually."

"I guess you're right. I'm pretty fond of atmospheres." Sulu tries to smooth some of the wrinkles out of his gold shirt before he pulls it on, brushing himself down. "Ready?"

"Almost." Chekov reaches out to straighten Sulu's hair, smiling crookedly at him. "Now, yes. We can go home."


End file.
